


Word of Mouth

by asilentherald



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Court Sorcerer Merlin, Ealdor, F/M, Gen, Hunith POV, M/M, Marriage, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-20 18:11:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3660144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asilentherald/pseuds/asilentherald
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Gossip always travels faster than news." </p><p>In which Hunith gradually learns of her son's life in a rapidly changing Camelot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Word of Mouth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SheWhoStumbles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheWhoStumbles/gifts).



> Happy Belated Birthday, M!! Not quite sure if I wrote exactly what you wanted but I hope you enjoy it anyway; it was a fabulously fun story to write :D
> 
> (side note: if it's not clear, this is taking place post-season 4)

The beginning of spring brought knights swathed in Camelot red through the forests surrounding Ealdor. They brought with them their tired limbs and empty stomachs. The area was already nearly devoid of any edible game, but in their first few days there the passing troops had greater skill and luck than any of the villagers did.

Some in the village eyed them warily; these were the older residents who remembered the days of Uther’s wars, the old king’s thirst for spilling sorcerers’ blood lapping over the borders from time to time. Many recalled the time Hunith’s boy dragged Prince Arthur out to Ealdor to free them of Kanen’s hold on the village, but many more recalled the last time the boy brought visitors from Camelot – when the fields burned for days and stank of rotting bodies, when children continued to find corpses swathed in finery in the caves around the area while pretending to hide from the Great Dragon for the weeks that followed.

Hunith hadn’t been bothered by the coldness offered by her neighbors and even friends. She continued to speak with pride about her boy working closely beside the King of Camelot and what a fine young man he’d turned out to be.

“That boy was funny, wasn’t he?” some whispered, some who were Merlin’s age and had kept a safe distance from him and his enormous ears when they had been young together.

“Was, yeah,” they always said. “Funny he went to Camelot.”

The very name of the kingdom was enough to inspire a twist of mixed feelings in the guts of almost all residents of Ealdor. So the return of their red capes and blood-caked chainmail similarly inspired a wide array of emotions.

A few mornings their arrival Hunith walked out to their encampment just outside the border with baskets full of fresh bread, aided by one of the small children who lived next door to her. She walked calmly and steadily even if she was fighting the old tremor in her hand gripping the basket handle.

She spotted the king at the heart of the camp, his golden hair shining like a beacon in the warm sunlight. Hunith expected to be able to spot Merlin more easily – a mother’s talent, really – but when she finally laid eyes on her son standing close to the king’s side while they spoke in low tones and grinning like boys at each other, she hardly recognized him.

Gone were the threadbare clothes he’d worn when he’d left for Camelot all those years ago. His shirt was a deep purple, just this side of blue, the clearly fine fabric dyed richly and freshly. His trousers for once seemed to fit him well – something Hunith had never managed to do while he’d been growing, his limbs stretching out and remaining as wobbly and spindly as a colt’s. Hunith spotted a dark cloak or robe on the log next to them sitting beside Arthur’s own red cloak. It too looked new, though even from across the clearing Hunith could tell it was spattered with mud and blood.

They were, after all, a returning victorious army after a short and brutal war.

And there was Merlin, _her_ Merlin, at the head of it all.

Hunith hitched the basket more securely on her hip and tapped Kendra’s child, Bridget, on the shoulder nodding at her to go ahead. Hunith followed at a small distance as the little girl bounded across the camp, weaving between legs and flashing capes in her quest to reach Arthur and Merlin. They both looked confused, but only for a brief moment. Merlin’s face split into a huge grin – _oh, good, he looks like he’s been eating well_ – before he looked up and saw Hunith.

“Mother!” he exclaimed. Merlin bounded over just as elatedly as Bridget had and pulled her into a fierce hug.

“Merlin,” she sighed. “It’s wonderful to see you.”

“I was planning to come by tomorrow,” he said pulling back. Hunith looked him over again. She recognized him even less up close, his eyes still bright but a little lined with age, his jaw rough and dark after many days on campaign with no time to shave. His hair was long and wavy in a way that reminded her starkly of Balinor.

“It’s all right,” she smiled.

“Are you going to report back to the village we’re not planning on doing anything drastic this time?” Merlin chuckled.

“That’s certainly the idea. They’re all a little worried, Merlin.”

“Sorry,” he said, glancing away. He turned around and looked at Arthur, who was currently seated on the log and placing little white flowers in Bridget’s braids while she told him about her favorite cow, Fay.

“Arthur seems to be doing very well,” said Hunith, “all things considered.”

“So word even reached you here?” Merlin said, his voice dropping. Hunith nodded. “Gwen and Lancelot are happy, which makes Arthur happy. He… wasn’t so great for a while, but he said something wasn’t working with them anyway.”

Merlin looked more mournful about it than anything. Hunith reached up and cupped his jaw, running a worn thumb along his cheek.

“Sometimes it doesn’t work you to the way you think it will,” she said.

“I know,” he sighed.

“For one thing I never thought I’d see you in such fine clothes!” she said, grinning. Merlin blushed brightly.

“I think it’s quite the improvement, don’t you, Hunith?” Arthur said, walking up to them. He was beaming, still holding Bridget’s little hand. She reached out and took Hunith’s hand, joining them all together.

“I certainly agree, sire!”

“Now, none of that. You only need call me Arthur,” said the king, his cheeks tinged pink. “It is truly a pleasure to see you again, and under… better circumstances.”

She gave him a knowing smile.

“I’m sure all of Ealdor feels the same.”

“I’ve had my best men hunting down game to bring into town,” Arthur said. “We of course need to feed ourselves but I feel we’re still infringing on your hospitality.”

“You most certainly are not, Arthur,” she scolded. “We’ll manage all right.”

“Hunith, please. It’s the least we can do,” Arthur said. His voice was soothing and kind, so very different from her memories of his father.

“I think he’s trying to apologize for having the place nearly destroyed last time, mother,” Merlin piped up.

“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur muttered. Merlin did a strange hop-skip to the side and glared at Arthur, who looked entirely too pleased with himself.

Hunith watched them with amusement and a growing feeling that something between her son and the king had changed since they’d last met.

“I take it Merlin’s told you of his promotion,” Arthur said, turning his gaze on Hunith again. Bridget tugged on Arthur’s hand and led him down to his knees. She started placing flowers behind his ears. Arthur laughed softly and let her continue.

“Merlin’s told me nothing,” Hunith said, looking up at Merlin. “What secrets are you keeping now, love?”

“None,” Merlin said simply.

“Merlin’s Camelot’s Court Sorcerer, Hunith,” Arthur said. His words trailed into a giggle as Bridgets brushed the thin petals of one flower on Arthur’s face.

Hunith would have felt just as warm and fond as Merlin looked watching Arthur if she hadn’t just heard the words out of the king’s mouth.

“Merlin….”

“It’s all right, mum. Really,” he said softly. “Come. Let’s get the bread to the cooks and then I’ll tell you everything.”

“You should have written.”

“It’s all very recent. It was right before we left for war,” said Merlin. He took Bridget’s basket on one arm and looped his other through Hunith’s arm. “Around when Arthur and Gwen—”

“A busy time,” she said.

“Yes,” he nodded. “I thought maybe, since you’d heard about Arthur and Gwen, you’d heard about me, too.”

“Gossip always travels faster than real news.”

“That’s very true,” he chuckled.

“Have the laws changed, then?”

“Yes,” said Merlin. “Arthur began changing them over a year ago. The office of Court Sorcerer only opened up in the fall, and, well.”

“He already knew,” Hunith said, starting to smile. Merlin’s pale face flushed red again.

“I still haven’t worked out how. He’s not the brightest man around, mother; it’s all those blows to the head.”

“You’ve probably stopped a fair number of them from happening over the years.”

“That’s true. I am good at my job.”

“Protecting the king?”

Merlin nodded. “It wasn’t anything, nothing anyone could see, and now it’s everything and out for everyone to see.”

“I’m proud of you. Both of you,” Hunith added. “I know you’ll do wonderful things together.”

“Arthur is going to be the greatest king Albion’s ever known,” Merlin said. Something in his voice – the absolute certainty, or perhaps it was true trust, something she hadn’t seen in Merlin’s regard for Arthur before – eased the tense coils around her heart.

They paused to deposit their baskets at the cooking station before retreating to the woods between the camp and Ealdor. It was quiet out there, at least. Hunith could still see Bridget’s braids flying about as she chased Arthur and another knight around the middle of the encampment.

“Your father would be terribly proud, Merlin,” Hunith said quietly. “He had no love for the Pendragons, but he had all the love in the world for you. I know he’d be so pleased with how you’ve helped Camelot and Arthur grow and prosper.”

“Really?” he asked. He looked so much like a little boy again.

“Yes, really,” she smiled. “We talked a few times of what Camelot would be like under the rule of Uther’s son. It wasn’t very optimistic talk, but we had enough sense to hope for a better future for the jewel of Albion, even with another Pendragon at the helm.”

“I—”

Merlin cut himself off. He took a steadying breath before saying,

“Thanks, mother.”

Hunith wrapped him up in a hug, holding him close until he relaxed, fitting in her arms like he used to as a child. He was always going to be a child to her, always _her_ child, even if he was now a man capable of moving mountains and rewriting histories.

When she eventually let him go and returned to Ealdor with Bridget, Kendra asked her,

“Is your boy out there?”

“He is,” she replied. “He’s with the King of Camelot.”

“He’s his consort now?” Kendra blinked.

“Oh, heavens, no! He’s the Court Sorcerer of Camelot and the King’s most trusted advisor,” Hunith said. She couldn’t resist at the sight of Kendra’s blank face.

Secretly she wondered if Kendra’s assumption was far off the mark, but as his mother, she didn’t need to know every detail of Merlin’s life in Camelot.

* * *

The next time Camelot soldiers arrived in Ealdor was during the hottest days of summer. They came with an announcement from the King.

_“Let it be known that through a cordial agreement with King Lot the borders of Camelot have expanded to include Ealdor under its protection and to reap the kingdom’s benefits.”_

Murmuring in the village did not cease for weeks. Hunith went about smiling and thanking the gods for Arthur’s kind heart and Merlin’s persistence. When some of the villagers approached her warily about making a trip to Camelot to personally thank the benevolent King Arthur for his generosity, Hunith noticed a difference. They were cool with her as ever, but there was a touch of respect now that she had not seen since before Merlin arrived with a dragon on his heels.

News of Camelot’s Court Sorcerer had finally trickled into Ealdor, but nothing beyond the boy was the King’s former servant and a peasant at that. Those who’d claimed Hunith’s declarations about Merlin’s new position at court were false avoided her for many days while others came to her with words of congratulations. Many however continued to doubt, claiming the boy with the ears, Hunith’s lad who almost killed Old Man Simmons by felling his tree, could never amount to anything so great as the King of Camelot’s most trusted advisor.

Hunith’s blood had long ceased to boil at such ridiculousness; she’d grown used to it long before Merlin was even born, back when she’d taken in the wild man who everyone claimed had to be someone more dangerous than a simple passerby.

No, by now Hunith was well used to incorrect assumptions and unkind words. She was well shielded by her apathy regarding their good opinion and the relentless kindness she showed them daily.

Hunith led several villagers out to the road and personally requested the audience with the king once they reached the citadel’s white gates. She felt their eyes burn on her back as Merlin, dressed as beautifully as ever, embraced her before the entire court and the King himself kissed her cheek and welcomed her.

The visit was unfortunately short, but it was just long enough for Hunith to get a fuller picture of her son’s new life.

“He has chambers of his own now,” Gaius told her over dinner in the physician’s rooms. The heavy scent of herbs and potions was wonderfully comforting, making up for Gaius’s lackluster cooking entirely. “If I thought Merlin and the king were attached at the hip when he was still a servant, it’s nothing compared to now.”

She paused, her spoon hovering before her lips briefly. Gaius said nothing, so she went on eating.

“Arthur must keep him busy.”

“This is a challenging time – Arthur’s making many changes to Camelot. Getting the people to accept magic after so many years believing Uther’s hatred hasn’t been easy. Merlin’s role in changing their hearts has been integral,” Gaius said.

“He’s come so far, Gaius,” she said.

“I couldn’t be prouder of him,” he smiled.

The next morning, she encountered Gwen with a handsome man in town. She dressed like a noblewoman, entirely befitting her golden heart, in Hunith’s opinion, and the man was in chainmail and a vibrant Camelot red cloak. They didn’t seem to notice the world bustling on around them.

“Hunith! Oh, how wonderful to see you!” Gwen exclaimed upon spotting her approach. Hunith hugged her tightly and looked her over.

“You look so well, Gwen. I’m very pleased,” she smiled.

“This is Lancelot, Hunith.”

The knight took her hand and kissed the back, murmuring, “My lady. I’m so glad to finally meet you.”

Hunith beamed.

“I need to go to training,” Lancelot said to them, shooting Hunith an extra smile. “Will you join us for dinner tonight, Hunith?”

“I’d be delighted.”

Gwen took Hunith’s arm and walked with her through the market. Without preamble Gwen told her what had transpired since she’d left Ealdor. Hunith was glad the rumors she’d heard had blown the drama entirely out of proportion.

“Arthur is a good man. Too good at times, and he doesn’t always realize it,” Gwen concluded. “He understood very easily how I could love Lancelot, even after all this time.”

Hunith held her tongue, but Gwen seemed to know her question anyway.

“He told me recently he knew from experience what it was like to try and hold back a love for another,” she said, “a love that won’t relent.”

“I see. And… you aren’t hurt by this?”

“No, not now,” Gwen said, shaking her head. “I can’t say I know if they’ve worked things out yet, but I’m truly happy for them.”

Gwen paused and smiled at Hunith.

“It’s so lovely to have you around again, Hunith. You were the brightest part of my time away from Camelot all those years ago,” she said. “I can’t thank you enough for helping me the way you did.”

“You deserve all the kindness in the world,” she said firmly. “I was only too glad to help.”

Gwen squeezed her hand appreciatively and guided her toward some colorful stalls and grinning vendors.

When Hunith returned to the citadel later that afternoon, she found a council meeting just letting out. She recognized some of the knights, and they greeted her in kind. By the time Hunith reached the great chamber with the Round Table, she could only hear two familiar voices speaking in the cavernous room. While Hunith couldn’t make out what they were saying, it was clearly not meant for ears beyond their own. She kept walking and turned a corner, intent on heading back to see Gaius once more before dinner, and instead found Merlin and Arthur emerging in the hall through a side door to the chamber.

The king kissed Merlin on the lips, a hand resting gently on Merlin’s hip, guiding him closer.

Hunith froze. She waited for them to notice, but apparently the only world they sensed was their own. Merlin smiled widely as they parted and murmured something that made Arthur laugh and his cheeks flush. They turned and started walking down the hall away from where Hunith stood rooted to the spot, never once noticing her presence.

The hall was empty for a long time before Hunith willed her legs to move again. She shook her head, shook out her shoulders, and left.

After returning to Ealdor Hunith kept her ears pricked and her sharp tongue ready for rumors regarding the King of Camelot and his Court Sorcerer. It was the sort of rumor that could ruin the King’s good reputation, coming so soon after his Queen left him for his First Knight, amicable as the split truly was. It could also cast a dark shadow over Merlin’s promotion to one of the highest positions in Camelot’s court.

But no such rumors reached Ealdor. There were only words of growing prosperity and even a magical tournament to be held at the citadel in the autumn.

It seemed to Hunith Merlin’s years of practicing keeping secrets continued to pay off.

* * *

The harvest was nearly over by the time word reached Ealdor of the results of the first Camelot Tournament of Magic. It came on an ashen day with rain threatening around every gust of wind. The knight who delivered the news sported a healing scar on his face, his curly reddish hair matted in some parts with blood.

“The King was gravely injured. The Court Sorcerer fought Morgana Pendragon single-handedly and drove her and her forces off,” explained Sir Leon. He clutched a folded letter in his hand, which didn’t seemed to want to uncurl from a fist. Hunith touched the leather of his glove gently and waited for him to relax. It slowly worked and the knight thanked her. “It was a horrible battle, right there in the citadel. It rained blood from black skies until Merlin called down lightning to fight for Camelot. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“What happened then?”

“Merlin… has not returned from keeping Morgana and her forces at bay,” said Sir Leon. “He fights without stopping.”

Hunith nodded, looking away. She swallowed, her throat tight and dry.

“Stubborn boy,” she muttered. “What of the King?”

“He slowly recovers under Gaius’s care, but it’s well known he is weak. The kingdom is vulnerable, even though we have every defense at full height right now,” said Sir Leon. “We’re patrolling the borders to ensure no one is attempting to invade while Camelot recovers.”

“I see,” Hunith said. She drew her shawl more tightly around her body.

“We ask if you see or hear of anything to send a message to the encampment less than an hour’s walk down the ridge.”

Hunith nodded. She glanced around and saw that most of the village had joined her to listen to Sir Leon, but no one made any attempt to usurp her position as primary communicator.

“And what of Merlin, Sir Leon? He’s strong, but he cannot fight forever.”

“We all have faith Merlin will bring this fight to an end as swiftly as possible.”

“I’m glad. I only hope he doesn’t do anything stupid and get himself killed,” Hunith added. Sir Leon offered her a knowing grimace and the letter, her name written on the front in Gaius’s hand, before setting off.

Hunith turned back to the villagers.

“Is there anything that can be done?” her neighbor Kendra asked. Bridget clung to her skirts, shivering in the pre-storm chill. 

“We’ll tell them if we hear of anyone trying to come into Camelot.”

“Yes, of course, but for _Merlin_.”

Hunith blinked. “Merlin? He’ll be all right. He’s quite good at what he does.”

“The boy managed to trip over his own feet most days,” one of the older men snorted. There were titters of laughter and assent.

“Aye, but you saw how small he was when he felled Simmons’ tree, yeah? He’s got a lot in ‘im,” another said. Laughter died out, but assent persisted.

“Your boy… he fights for the king and Camelot as though it’s the only home he’s ever loved,” Kendra said.

“He never felt at home here. I doubt he truly felt at home in Camelot until his closest friends learned of his magic,” Hunith said, shaking her head. “Merlin loves Camelot more than anything.”

“He became a man there. He found purpose,” Kendra nodded. “I remember how bright and energetic he was as a boy. I remember how lonely he was, too.”

“He’s a survivor, that one!” someone shouted. There were cries of accord. “He’ll keep us all safe!”

Hunith stared at them all, not quite sure what was happening here. She took a tentative step in the direction of her home.

“We just… want you to know, Hunith, that we’re proud of your boy, too,” the first older man said, stepping forward. “He’s become quite the man, if the bards are right.”

“Bards? Don’t tell me they’ve started talking about Merlin already,” Hunith laughed before she could stop herself.

“It’s true!” One of the younger men said. She remembered him as her former neighbor Richard’s son. “I’ve just returned from visiting Weald and in the tavern a bard who’d come through Camelot sang of the king and his sorcerer! The things your Merlin has done, Hunith – I could hardly imagine it!”

The man seemed beyond awed. The crowd had fallen quiet, too. Hunith uncrossed her arms and let them fall to her sides.

“Merlin is a very special man, as is the King. The bard most likely told the truth, if Merlin’s stories in his letters are to be believed,” Hunith said. The man seemed even more amazed. She crossed her arms again just as it began to rain. “Come. Let us go home and take shelter from the storm.”

The crowd dissipated quickly, the young man’s eyes following Hunith for a while before he too turned away. Kendra walked with her back to the area near their homes.

“Are you worried about him?”

“I’m always worried,” she admitted, “but I trust Merlin, and I trust the King to keep him safe.”

“I don’t know what changed, but I think that visit to Camelot made a difference in the hearts of our friends here,” Kendra said.

“I’m glad for it,” Hunith said.

She didn’t need their approval, but it would certainly make life easier, especially now she knew Merlin was yet again keeping an entire kingdom safe all by himself.

The following weeks were dark and quiet. No word came from the encampment down the ridge, and no word reached them from Camelot. As far as Hunith knew, Merlin could still be fighting a tireless battle on his own, or it could be long over. He could be relaxing with Arthur by a great fire in the citadel, or he could be dead.

It felt a little like when Balinor left. He’d been around a while, just long enough to get the villagers to stop fearing him, even though they never accepted him. Hunith had already sensed a change in her womb but it was too early to tell if it would come to fruition. Then word came of Camelot knights in the woods. The following morning, Balinor left with a faint kiss on her cheek while she barely roused at dawn. She didn’t know where he went or how he fared until Merlin finally told her of Balinor’s fate so many, many years after he’d left Ealdor.

It felt some days she was destined to constantly be in a state of uncertainty about those she loved.

* * *

The first snow had long passed before the encampment on the ridge dissipated and the fight for the citadel of Camelot apparently ended. The knights were recalled back to Camelot quickly and no further word ended up reaching Ealdor. Hunith wrote to Gaius and Merlin, but no passersby were keen on heading toward Camelot now.

The winter was not especially harsh. At Midwinter the village thanked the gods for their kindness. The cold was still bitter, but their plentiful harvest kept them happy and alive. Much fewer died that year, even of the women giving birth. Hunith helped deliver four healthy babies who all survived to see spring.

When the snow melted, there still was no news from Camelot. Hunith normally didn’t worry, but the silence was unusual, given recent events.

When the flowers bloomed and the branches became heavy with fully green leaves, Hunith nearly resolved to go to Camelot herself. Even the other villagers asked after Merlin’s fate now – no, not just Merlin anymore, but if he was alive and well or not. That Hunith couldn’t give them an answer was beginning to drive her mad.

But then her answer arrived on horseback.

His hair was longer and wilder than before, his jaw rough though the hair carefully was trimmed, his shoulders broad and strong in a way Hunith had never seen on her son. He looked tired around the eyes and mouth and certainly thinner than the last time she saw him. Merlin beamed his sweet, too-wide smile all the same and nearly fell off his horse in his haste to meet Hunith halfway.

“Merlin,” she sighed. He hugged her tightly. She felt all the stress and uncertainty fall away like flimsy bits of barley as she drew him close. Nothing could compare to this, to having her son in her arms again.

“Mother,” he said. “I’m so glad you’re all right.”

“Me? I’m fine. You, I heard, were fighting a war on your own,” Hunith said. Merlin winced at her scathing tone.

“I did everything I could to stop him, Hunith, but your son is a terribly thick-skulled man,” said Arthur, who materialized beside them out of thin air. Hunith hadn’t even noticed the rest of their company, her attention so focused on her son.

“Aye, sire, he is indeed,” she agreed, ruffling Merlin’s hair fondly.

“Mother,” he grumbled. Arthur laughed and ruffled it even more. Merlin scowled, but Hunith saw the edges of a smile as he glanced at the King.

The light caught Merlin’s face and she saw the shine of a fading scar on his cheek disappearing into his beard. Hunith frowned. Merlin absently scratched at his face when he caught her looking.

“Er, Hunith, there is a purpose to this visit. There’s something I’d like to discuss with you,” Arthur said. Merlin shook his head and smiled before backing away from them. “Could we step inside for this?”

Hunith led the way back into her small house. She looked back out at Merlin, who was now talking to Guinevere and Lancelot, who both looked well and glowing, as well as—

“Sire,” she started, alarmed.

“It’s all right. Morgana is harmless now,” Arthur said. His voice soothed her instantly, but something didn’t make sense. Arthur quickly explained, “The battle Merlin fought was long and difficult, but primarily because of why Morgana was fighting in the first place. She didn’t seem to want the throne anymore. She just wanted revenge and to let all her anger out. She wanted me dead. But Merlin – he had the _brilliant_ idea of trying to show her a different way.”

“And… that worked?” Hunith asked dubiously.

“Eventually. He blames himself for the way Morgana went all those years ago,” Arthur said, sounding mournful, even upset. “He still does even now she’s had a change of heart.”

“You’re certain about her _change of heart?_ ”

“I can’t say I am,” he answered. “She wants time to recover. She says something did change during those weeks in the forest when she and Merlin fought. She said all that magic shifted something in her and changed the way she saw things. It reset her.”

“Magic is quite incredible like that,” Hunith said softly. “What will she do?”

“She wants to seek out the druids and learn anew,” Arthur said. “We’re on our way to meet them now.”

“I see. So, what’s the purpose of your visit? As much as I adore seeing Merlin alive and well,” Hunith said, “I can’t help but feel this was your idea, sire.”

Arthur’s cheeks flushed. The contrast with his golden hair was stunning, even in her dark home.

“Merlin… is a wonder to me,” Arthur confessed. “I don’t know how best to say this—”

“If you mean to tell me you and my son are involved, I’ll spare you the trouble,” Hunith said. Arthur looked up sharply, his eyes wide and round.

“You _know?_ How?” he exclaimed.

Hunith smiled. “No one had to tell me. I saw for myself.”

Arthur stared a moment longer before nodding. He looked vaguely sick now.

“I take it you care for my son,” Hunith said.

“I do. I love him,” Arthur said. He started to smile. “May the gods help me, but I well and truly love Merlin, and I want him to know that every day for the rest of our lives. I nearly died, and then I almost lost him. That scared me more than dying did.”

“I understand,” she said quietly.

“Merlin’s father – he told me who he was,” Arthur said.

“I loved Balinor with all my heart. I lost him after far too little time together,” she said. “Then again, when you love someone, no amount of time is enough.”

“No, it isn’t, which is why I’d like to make the most of what we have left,” Arthur said. “I would marry Merlin, with your blessing, Hunith.”

“Marry? Do your courts allow this?”

“He’ll become my Consort,” Arthur nodded, “but we hoped to be married by the druids before returning to Camelot for the courtly ceremony.”

“Which is why you’re accompanying Lady Morgana now,” Hunith nodded. “I see.”

“I want peace in this kingdom, Hunith. This is one way we can make peace with the druids. It’s a gesture of good faith,” said Arthur.

“And a romantic one,” Hunith smiled. She stood and walked to where Arthur sat. She stooped to press a kiss on the crown of his head. “You both have my blessing. It goes without saying. I’ve always felt you both fit together like two sides of a coin.”

Arthur laughed quietly. “You’re not the first to say it.”

“Then perhaps it’s true,” she said.

“Thank you, Hunith. It means the world to us both,” Arthur said, standing, too. He held Hunith’s hand between his own. “Will you join us for the ceremonies?”

“I’d want nothing less.”

* * *

The end of spring led Hunith away from Ealdor again. The villagers watched her go, sharing Merlin’s horse as they embarked on the final leg of their journey. Hunith watched Morgana wearily, but she looked like a ghost. Her eyes were ringed with purple exhaustion, but she seemed more at peace than even when Hunith first met her. Merlin chattered on with Arthur while Gwen and Lancelot talked quietly with Morgana.

Hunith was content to let their youth wash over her and allow fondness to fill the worried cracks in her chest.

The druids were ready when they arrived. Some came to fetch Morgana and settle her in while the rest guided Merlin and Arthur to a designated tent to prepare. Just before sunset, the clearing in the woods filled with floating golden lights. White sheets canopied the area but for a patch of clear sky open in the center over a bright fire. Druids dressed in clean, beautiful clothing encircled the area. One older man stood before the fire with a set of golden cords in his hands.

It would be so different from the ceremony held a few days later in Camelot in the bright throne room before rows of resplendent nobles and straight-backed knights. Geoffrey of Monmouth stood with the Consort’s circlet on a red velvet pillow beside the thrones, just behind where the King awaited his Court Sorcerer to walk down the long aisle.

In the forest, Arthur and Merlin emerged together and stood between the fire and the druid elder. The man’s voice blended with nature around them. It was entrancing, the heady weight of magic in the air and the earth. Hunith knew she didn’t have an ounce of magic in her, but even she could feel how the world around them rejoiced at the union forming that night. The golden cords wrapped around their joined hands seemed to glow in the crackling light.

Before the court of Camelot, Merlin knelt on the steps and allowed Arthur to place the circlet on his head. He raised Merlin up to his feet and presented him to the court. They stood side by side before their thrones, nearly equal in height, and, for the first time, truly _equal_.

Both times their kiss spoke volumes of joy and peace, both for Merlin and Arthur as well as the future of Magic and Camelot.

Both times Hunith couldn’t have been prouder of her son and to carry his story home to Ealdor.


End file.
